The Arts Are The Salt Of The

A Judge Who Cannot Punish, In The End Associates Themselves With The Criminal.

Higher Yet And Higher Out Of Clouds And Night, Nearer Yet And Nearer Rising To The Light - Light, Serene And Holy Where My Soul May Rest, Purified And Lowly, Sanctified And Blest.

You Must Be Either The Servant Or The Master, The Hammer Or The Anvil.

Architecture Is Frozen Music. [ger., Die Backunst Ist Eine Erstarrte Musik.]

Give Me Those Days With Heart In Riot, The Depths Of Bliss That Touched On Pain, The Force Of Hate, And Love's Disquiet- Ah, Give Me Back My Youth Again!